


Loose Lips

by Castlewood_Bard



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Camping, Crying, Emotions, Emotions run high, Fights, First Fight, Geraskier, M/M, Walking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26996869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castlewood_Bard/pseuds/Castlewood_Bard
Summary: The fight had started so simply. A bit of indignation. Jaskier never meant it to go this far.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78





	Loose Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. The only knowledge I have of the Witcher is from the Netflix series, but these two have so much potential I had to do this! Enjoy;)

“Geralt, you could have helped her,” Jaskier whined as he trudged behind Roach. 

“Who?”  the Witcher’s brow knitted together, trying to remember which charity case Jaskier had most recently wanted to take in . 

“You know  perfectly  well who. The old woman we passed on our way out of town this morning. Lord knows we have enough coin at the moment.”

Geralt grunted  dismissively. “At the moment. Coin goes  quickly  on the road, you know that, Jask.”

“Yes, but that town was generous. They knew the value of your work and paid  fairly  for that nest of drowners. You could have given her something.”

Jaskier’s tone burrowed into Geralt’s ear. “No. If I’d done that, we would have had a mob on our hands. Every urchin within a mile would have been on our tail. Drop in Jask, you’re giving me a headache.”

“Drop it? Geralt, she were starving!” Jaskier didn’t know why he’d gone on the defensive. Something about the Witcher’s gruff tone rubbed him the wrong way today. The sun beat down, souring his mood. 

“I can’t do anything about that!”

“You could, you decided not to!”

“I decided to worry about us for today!  Maybe  you should try it.” Geralt seethed.

“I’ve seen enough hunger to know when to care about myself and when to give to other people. Not  all of  us can be heartless monsters, Geralt!” Jaskier shot back, rolling his eyes.

The Witcher eyed his companion, afternoon sun blazing in his eyes. “What?” 

His voice was so soft, Jaskier wasn’t  entirely  sure the man had spoken at all.

“I-I-”

Geralt turned in the saddle and spurred Roach. She shot off in the blink of an eye, leaving Jaskier coughing in the dust.

“What have I done?”

Geralt lost track of how long he rode. His blood boiled beneath his skin and his eyes stung from wind and something he didn’t want to explore. When Roach’s labored breathing finally broke through the sound of his own heart, he stopped. 

Hopping down, he patted her neck. “Sorry, girl.” 

His voice sounded odd. It was dry and cracked and sticky. He stumbled through the trees to find some water.

‘Monster.’ 

Geralt whipped around, but it was only his imagination. Silence was playing tricks on him. He hadn’t had this much quiet since Jaskier joined him. At the thought of the bard his stomach clenched.

A small stream appeared ahead of him. The Witcher sighed with relief and rushed forward. He knelt down, catching a glimpse of his reflection. There were odd tracks on his face. Streaks of pale skin shone through the layer of grime that had settled as he rode. Geralt brushed his cheek. His fingers came away damp. He put his tongue to the tip of one. It tasted of salt and… sorrow. He sucked in and shut his eyes as a wave of hurt knocked the wind out of him. He took a shallow breath as world blurred.. 

He plunged his hands into the water and splashed his face until it was raw from scrubbing. Whatever was happening he had to stop it. It wasn’t safe for him to feel this way. 

Geralt hurried back to Roach and set up camp. He got a fire going, settling into a fitful sleep of anger and confusion. 

A light crack woke him. He sat bolt upright, every muscle coiled with adrenaline. “Show yourself,” his voice was nothing less than a wolf’s growl.

A figure appeared from the trees. Geralt grabbed his sword and sprung on them. Thrusting them against the nearest tree, he growled again and held the sword to their throat.  A familiar whimper escaped their lips and Geralt shifted so that firelight shone on their face .

“Jaskier.” His tone became murderous as he tightened his grip on the sword. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s voice  was strangled  with emotion and the blade pressing into his windpipe . 

Geralt snarled. How dare this man come back. How dare he use Geralt’s name. How dare he even breathe. Who had gave him the right to make Geralt feel like this? His grip on the sword grew tighter still.

“Geralt, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never- it was so wrong-”

“I’m not a monster.” 

“I-I know,” the bard flinched as his throat bobbed against cold metal. “Geralt, please. Listen for a moment. I won’t bother you again!” 

Panic edged Jaskier's voice, but he steeled himself and continued. “I-I know I hurt you. I never should have said that. Any of it.You were protecting us, and I will be  eternally  grateful to you. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I don’t even know why I argued. I’ll leave you alone now. Promise. You won’t see me again. I’ll carry your song of bravery throughout the Continent if you will allow me, but you won’t have to worry about me. I-” He paused his rambling to look into the other man’s face. “Geralt, what happened to your eyes?” 

In the firelight friends eyes were puffy and red. Geralt turned his face from the bard, cold and wary, angry and raw.

Jaskier’s face imploded. He lifted his hand to Witcher’s face, but stopped a hair's breadth away. When he spoke again his tone was gentler. “Geralt, I am sorry. What I said to you today… I can never make it up to you. And I’ll regret that forever.” 

“I don’t want your groveling, Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice wobbled, and he cursed it for betraying him.

“Gods, Geralt,” Jaskier breathed as he watched a small tear slip down the Witcher’s face. His hand closed the distance and brushed the tear off Geralt’s cheek. The sword slipped  slightly  from his throat as Geralt closed his eyes at the touch. Pain danced on his face. He only let himself rest there a moment before pulling away. Jaskier knew better than to push. He stayed by the tree, eyes fixed on the ground.

Geralt sat down  heavily  by the fire, letting the glowing embers burn in his eyes. They were both quiet for a long time. Then Geralt cleared his throat. “Your song? When you sing it, do you mean what you say?”

Jaskier looked up. “Every word, I swear.”

“Then why- why…” Geralt’s voice wouldn’t let him continue.

“I don’t know.” Jaskier whispered, still sounding strangled even without the sword to his throat. 

Heavy silence settled around them, Geralt twitching at every sound, no matter how distant .

“Why do  I feel  like this, Jask? Everything… everything hurts.” 

Jaskier gave him a serious look. “Because I hurt you, Geralt. I used words I never had before and never should have anyway.” 

Geralt turned to search his face for insincerity but found nothing. The bard’s face was an open book of regret and apology. 

“It doesn’t always feel like this, though.” His voice wavered. 

Suddenly, Jaskier’s arms were around him. Geralt’s shoulders tensed, but he found he didn’t actually want to fight it. 

“I don’t know how to undo what  is done, but I can promise you will never hear those words from me again. I swear on my life, Geralt.” 

Geralt’s body sagged, the fight gone from his body. He let the bard trace circles on his back and gave into the exhaustion of emotion.

Morning came  slowly  , the sun  barely  peeking through the trees. A stray beam,  however, managed to sneak its way into Geralt’s eye. He blinked and sat up  unsteadily. Glancing around, his eyes fell on Jaskier stoking a small fire. He grunted, the events of yesterday flooding back.

Jaskier spun around. “Geralt! Uh, do you want tea? I was planning to leave before you were up. I’m sorry.”

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Jaskier cocked his head.

“Apologizing.” 

“Yes, I do…”

“Why?”

“Because what I did was awful. One time isn’t enough.” 

“Everyone does it…  eventually .” Geralt cast his eyes toward the ground. Yesterday he’d shown weakness, letting the bard’s words get him. He had to put that right this morning. 

“That’s the thing!” The bard got up to pace. “I promised myself _I_ wouldn’t the day I met you. The day you opened my eyes. The day you saved me.” His hands flew in the air, and Geralt followed their frantic movements.

He was silent for a moment, letting thoughts mull in his brain. His chest loosened. “Jaskier, I forgive you.”

His friend froze. “You... what?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to explain how he felt. It was still confusing to him, but he’d never actually gotten an apology. It warmed something in the pit of his stomach. “Yesterday… was bad for both of us. We pushed and didn’t think. I know- I know you didn’t mean it.” 

Jaskier shuffled his feet. “How?” He whispered.

“How what?”

“How do you know? How can you forgive me? How did I get so lucky to find you?” Jaskier implored.

Geralt stood and walked to him, placing a hand on Jaskier's shoulder. “I know because I can feel it. Call it my senses. I forgive you because it will hurt us both far less. And you are lucky because you deserve it.”

Jaskier scoffed.

“You do.  Not only did you pursue a Witcher, you befriended him and followed him into unnumbered dangers. You messed up, Jaskier. You’re human. It’s normal.”

Jaskier blinked at him. “But I hurt you.”

“You’re not unique there.” Geralt let a tinge of humor into his voice.

“Geralt, people who hurt you end up on the end of your sword.” It wasn’t an accusation, more a self convicton. 

“And you did. Last night.”

“That’s not what I-”

Geralt held up his hand. “That’s the last I’m saying on it. We have to get back to the main road.” 

Jaskier gaped at him but helped him pack, muttering to himself the whole time. The sun was kinder today, and they fell into an easy rhythm of chatter.

Neither mentioned the incident again, but each did his part to ensure nothing like it ever happened again.  Geralt gave coins to urchins when he thought Jaskier wasn’t looking, while Jaskier made sure to sing the Witcher’s song in every tavern. It was a mutual agreement that held many promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos always appreciated :)


End file.
